A Tisket, A Tasket
by lg-lit
Summary: “Well, yeah. The girls provide the baskets, and the boys bid on them. Then the pair share the lunch together. You don’t think it sounds fun?” Mike looked offended for some reason. I was seriously questioning his definition of fun.
1. The Basket

First off, yes, this is a blatantly ripped off idea of the Gilmore Girls episode "A Tisket, A Tasket". Blame dreamsofoompaloompas. I honestly own nothing, not even the plot line. It all pretty much belongs to ASP and Stephenie. Enjoy.

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"A what?" I choked out as soon as Mike described it.

"Bid-A-Basket Auction. It's this thing Forks does every year to raise money to help buy gym equipment. Last year we raised enough to buy new volleyball nets and re-tile the showers!"

So, not only did this sound ridiculous, it also involved supporting a class I was firmly against. Oh, the joy.

"Is participation absolutely required?" I asked sheepishly. I was not going to involve myself in something that could be possibly avoided.

"Well, yeah. The girls provide the baskets, and the boys bid on them. Then the pair share the lunch together. You don't think it sounds fun?" Mike looked offended for some reason. I was seriously questioning his definition of fun. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tyler eyeing Mike suspiciously.

"Oh yes," I sighed. "…Big fun."

I couldn't even believe this sort of misogynistic, ludicrous event was required. It was like a bad 'Little House on the Prairie' episode, come to life.

I rose from the lunch table without saying a word, and quickly slipped out though the back door into the gloomy afternoon. This was just too much. It was bad enough to have the attention of now three rather unwanted suitors, but to have them bid for my attention?

I dropped to the ground, leaning against the side of the building with as much frustration as my back would allow. I could hear the chatter of the lunchroom through an open window above my head. Why was this happening to me?

Later that evening, as I attempted to concentrate on an English essay, Charlie came home. I hadn't even thought about what to make for dinner yet, because preparing food for men was the thought I'd been trying to escape all day.

"Bella?" he called from the hall. I shut off the computer and clumsily fumbled my way down the stairs, hoping he wouldn't be too upset by the lack of food prepared.

"Hey dad, um, sorry. I went over to Jessica's after school…" Lie. "And we were working on this really hard English essay and…" Sort of lie.

"Don't worry about it, Bells. I'll make dinner tonight," he smiled. "Feel like an omelet?"

"Um, sure." I smiled apologetically and swiftly turned on my heel to head back upstairs. I'd made it as far as the kitchen door when he stopped me.

"Hey, did you all get the information about the Bid-A-Basket Auction today?" He seemed too enthusiastic.

"Er…yeah dad. We did." I sighed to myself. Only in Forks.

The week passed by at an exhausting pace, leaving only 48 hours between the auction and myself. I'd been able to distract myself from thinking about it by consuming my mind in other topics: like the fact that Edward Cullen hadn't been in school all week. This thought bothered me almost as much as the auction did, and I couldn't figure out why.

Thursday afternoon, as I slumped my way through the rain towards my truck, I noticed two people standing by the tailgate waiting for me. It was Angela and Jessica, both lost in overly enthusiastic chatter. No doubt this was about the auction. I considered the option of turning around and pretending I had left a book inside, but Jessica caught my attention before I had the chance.

"Bella! Great!" she squealed. "We were just about to head out to hunt for our baskets, come with us!" It didn't seem to be an offer, more of a mandate.

"I, uh…"

"Come on! _Let's go_!" She grabbed the arm of my raincoat and started dragging me in the direction of her car. In any other circumstances this wouldn't have bothered me the way it was now.

Shopping for baskets made Saturday seem like a reality, and I was still hoping my sick subconscious had made this all up.

I sat quietly in the back of her car, subdued in silence, trying to come up with contingency plans on how to get out of this Saturday. Sick? Charlie would never buy it. He'd seen right through my faux-enthusiasm the other night, and now seemed even more determined that I attend.

The only other option I could see would be a freak, body breaking, accident…and those only seemed to happen when I didn't need them.

We arrived at a small country store just outside of town called Minnie's Crafts. The exterior décor was quaint. Bushels of flowers in straw woven pots hung from the door, by which sat two rather dilapidated rocking chairs. I could hear laughter ringing from the inside.

We made our way past the entrance, and I discovered where the laughter had come from. Two girls from Forks High, whose names I didn't know, were already shopping for their baskets. They seemed to be bubbling with excitement over each basket they picked up, and acted as though they were trying the baskets on to see which went better with their outfits. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

Angela and Jessica joined their basket search, oozing with delight as they critiqued each basket thoroughly. They seemed to prefer the colored type, with little flowers fastened to the handle. I begrudgingly glanced at a pile of yellow baskets on the opposite side of the room. They all looked the same to me.

"Bella!" Jessica called from the front. "This one is _perfect_ for you!"

I glanced up slowly to see, and noticed in her grasp a blue colored straw basket, interwoven with silver thread and tiny white flowers. It was actually…pretty. Were it for any other occasion I would have been excited by such a lovely object, but this was no such occasion.

Jessica continued to insist that I buy it, knowing I would eventually succumb to her persistent pleading. She was right. Eventually, after much consideration, Angela decided on a pink plaid woven picnic style basket, and Jessica chose an over the top, purple basket, covered in sunflowers and made in the shape of a heart.

As we stood in the check out line behind the two overzealous unknown girls, I stole a glance behind the counter at the old women checking us out. She was terribly frail looking, but seemed to move with just as much exuberance as the other four in the room. I overheard parts of their conversation, and apparently she had participated in a Bid-A-Basket Auction when she was a girl. She seemed to be living vicariously through the girls' stories of how they couldn't wait and whom they expected to bid on their baskets.

I wished they would hurry up. Any later and Charlie was going to come searching for me, and this was the last place I wanted to be found. It would let him think I'd finally become excited by the prospect of being put up on the auctioning block. There was no need to raise his hopes any higher than they already were.


	2. The Car

**Author Note:** So, a few things to explain: First, this fic takes place after Edward saves Bella from becoming road kill by Tyler's van, but before the first lunchroom talk. Second, Edward is on his way, I promise, but a few things have to happen first before hand. Thanks for the reviews, hope you enjoy!

--

Saturday was not kind with its approach. Talk of the auction seemed to be everywhere since the impromptu basket hunt on Thursday, and everyone appeared to be obsessing over my plans. Charlie was still chipper, Jessica was still chatty, Mike was still eager, and Edward was still…gone. Not once the entire week did he seem to feel it necessary to show up to class. At lunch I saw his family sitting at their designated table, as usual, but he was never there. After school they all piled into a rather extraordinarily blue BMW, and still no Edward. It seemed a miracle to me that he could pass classes with such an erratic attendance rate.

Friday after school I took my time getting my books together, trying to avoid the thousands of Bid-A-Basket posters that seemed to hang from every door and window on Forks High School property.

'Head down, eyes on your toes' I coached myself along the cream colored hallway. Unfortunately, like most of my avoidance plans, this one backfired dramatically. I somehow managed to walk directly into the path of both Eric and Tyler, who seemed to be having it out over something important.

I swiftly ducked into the nearest classroom, managing to gracelessly trip over the wastebasket, making my entrance truly complete. I carefully picked myself up and realized I was in the Biology lab. Mr. Banner was sitting at his desk grading papers, and seemed to have a puzzled look on his face as he glanced up to catch a glimpse at the disturbance. I tried to put on my best innocent face.

"I'm really sorry about the --- Mr. Banner." I was out of breath and I desperately needed a lie to explain my unexpected visit, but my imagination didn't seem to want to work anymore.

"I, erm, I…I was just wondering if you had graded our labs from Wednesday yet?" Save.

He shuffled some red and yellow papers around on his desk as I spoke, seeming to catch my gist before I even knew what it was.

"Ah, yes. Bella---let's see here." He squinted at the stack of yellow pages I recognized as our quizzes. Honestly, I could already have told him my grade was an A, because I'd done every lab in this class at least once, sometimes twice, before.

"Very well done Miss Swan," he crooned as he handed me my paper. "You and Mr. Cullen seem to be the only two in class who appear to have a firm grip on enzymes."

"Cullen?" I blurted out more loudly than anticipated. He gave me a look of severe curiosity. " I mean, I thought Edward was absent on Wednesday…"

"He was. He came in after school to make it up, something about his father needing help. Very close, that family of theirs. Although I do not condone the missing of school for anything less than illness or death in the family."

He seemed to notice my interest in his explanation and continued muttering something about how when he was a boy he never missed more than a half a day of school even when it snowed. It was your typical "barefoot, up hill, both ways" anecdote, so I feigned interest while keeping my mind on Edward's unusual behavior.

I shouldn't be so curious, I kept telling myself over and over again. How was it any of my business where he was? Its not like we're close friends…or friends at all, for that matter. The mutual recognition of names does not define a friendship. So he saved my life. Batman did it all the time to people he'd never even met.

'Definitely not friends', I sighed to myself.

"What was that?" Mr. Banner questioned. Had I just said that out loud? My idiot points just kept piling up, and I needed to get out of there.

I apologetically smiled, offering my thanks for the grade and quickly saying a scattered goodbye.

I swiftly fled the school, only stumbling twice in the process. My truck looked lonely in the abandoned parking lot, only accompanied by an old green Ford and a…. silver Volvo.

My legs froze in the middle of the parking lot. As was becoming habit when Edward was involved, I began to feel my brain go numb (but that very well could have been to the rainy, thirty-degree temperature).

I stood there for what felt like hours, trying to make my legs work again, when suddenly from behind me I heard muffled footsteps.

I spun around on the slick blacktop quickly, my boots making one of the most unpleasant squeaks ever heard, only to see two sophomore looking boys accompanied by what seemed to be their mother. My heart raced in disappointment.

The three of them hopped into the old Ford and drove off, leaving me alone with that damn Volvo. I pushed myself forward, keeping my eyes directly on my truck, refusing to let my gaze drift.

When I finally reached the comfort of my familiar faded polyester seats, I revved the engine with everything I had and sped off in the direction of the main road, momentarily hydroplaning in the process.

Only when I reached a comfortable three-mile distance from the school did I allow myself to breathe. I mentally kicked myself for acting so childish. How old was I, anyway? I would have mocked any other girl who expressed such obsessive behavior over _some guy_, who wasn't even _my_ guy. And yet, here I was, speeding as fast as my truck would go to put distance between myself and said guy's stupid automobile.

When I found myself finally parked in Charlie's driveway, I discovered the one positive thing that came from Edward's little Lance Burton routine. It had managed to get my mind off of the auction for about a whole thirty minutes, which was an impressive amount of distraction that I had yet to achieve with any other topic.

Famous lyricists and poets have written heartfelt sonnets about Saturdays, known to be a day of fun and enjoyment by all. Children playing in parks elated by the absence of school. Lovers taking leisurely evening strolls along pebbly beaches as the blazing sun sets in the distance. Birds happily chirping as puppies roll on rich patches of budding grass…

These lyricists obviously never had to participate in a Bid-A-Basket Auction.

The day was a-typical of Forks: cold and cloudy with a touch of miserable, misty, humidity dangling freely in the air. It matched my outlook on the day perfectly.

The Auction started at 11 a.m. sharp, and all students were required to appear by 10:40 to sign in.

Around 9:30 I crawled down to the kitchen, where I found Charlie sitting at the table reading the paper. Once he was aware of my presence he folded the paper and gave me a very parental look. It took me by surprise.

"You all ready for today?" he beamed. I could finally see the motivation behind his concern. He desperately wanted me to fit in and feel like a part of the town. I didn't want to disappoint him anymore than I actually wanted to participate in this ridiculous soirée, so I gathered my emotions and forced myself to be happy, if only for his satisfaction.

"Almost," I forcibly grinned. I had made bologna sandwiches and apple slices the night before, refusing to exert any kind of effort.

The next hour seemed to fly by at an unpleasant pace, finally leaving me standing in front of my truck in the school parking lot, basket in hand.

'Just let this pass quickly,' I sighed.


	3. The Auction

**Author Note**: Let me start off by apologizing for taking so long to update. Life, family, and my internship took over my life and I have had NO time to write at all. I want to thank you all for being patient and sticking with me.  You all keep me writing, so thanks for the great reviews! (On an off topic note: For all you Potter maniacs like myself going to OotP tonight at midnight, have fun!)

They say time flies when you're having fun. That being said I truly believe that it purposefully takes it's sweet time when it knows you're miserable.

The thirty minutes before the auction seemed to go on forever. Several times I even stopped to tap my watch, just to make sure it wasn't broken.

The sign-in table was quite a sight to behold. A large wooden booth had been set up outside the gym doors. Above it, a droopy banner painted in obnoxiously girly pink lettering read "Forks High School 56th Annual Bid-A-Basket Auction". There were two separate queues protruding from the booth: one for girls and one for boys. I filed in with the twenty or so girls in line and tried to remain unnoticed. Every girl in sight seemed to be peeking at the competition's baskets, visually summing up their chances at a good bid.

I tried to keep my basket hidden between the folds of my jacket. This was so demeaning. Why was I the only one against this? This was disturbing to a Stepford degree.

I was making a mental note to research the possibility of gynoids when a voice to my right started calling my name.

"Bella! Hey, Bella!" Mike shouted over from the boy's line. He was waving with so much vigor he accidentally smacked the boy behind him in the face. I fought the urge to laugh and returned his greeting with a weak wave of my hand, pretending to be suddenly very preoccupied with the progress of the line's movement.

I finally reached the table about ten minutes later. The booth was being manned by a very heavyset woman wearing a 'Hello My Name Is' sticker indicating her name to be Mrs. Finch. She was wearing a bright yellow sweater, which clashed horribly with her frizzy red hair.

"Hello there! Name and basket, please." she motioned to the sheet in front of her. Once I had signed my name, she handed me a tag to pin to my jacket and placed a duplicate of the tag on my basket. She took my basket from me and placed it in a cardboard box at her feet. I glanced sideways at the tag, reading my number. G-13.

'_Bingo_' I mused to myself as she ushered me through into the gym.

I was surprised by the simplicity of the set up. At the end of the gym sat a portable stage holding up a black legged folding table and a cafeteria chair. In front of it sat the rest of the cafeteria chairs in rows of about 10. It was a most anti-climatic visual, and I was actually a little disappointed. For all the pain and torture I'd gone through agonizing over this thing, and the best they can do is a folding table and a plastic chair?

"Typical," I said out loud to myself as I moved to sit as far back as I could from the stage.

"What's typical?" I heard Jessica suddenly ask from behind me.

"Erm…" I stuttered as I turned around to face her. "That, uh…that all the seats in the front are taken already." I really was getting better at covering up my dislike for the entire situation.

"Oh!" she beamed at me. "Not a problem! We saved you a seat in the front with us! Angela and I got here at about 9:30 just to get an up-close spot!"

My heart sank. So much for hiding.

She led me up to the front, talking the whole time about her inability to sleep the previous night due to excitement. I felt the heat of stares on my back as I passed each row.

When we reached the seats, I chanced a glance around, suddenly catching the eye of Eric sitting between two boys I'd never met. In that brief moment he gave me an over exaggerated wink, causing the boy to his left to chuckle and jab him in the ribs. I swiftly shifted my eyes to face the stage, which was only about 3 feet away from our seats. A terrible feeling of being outnumbered began to take hold of me with force.

The auction had only been going on for about twenty minutes when the auctioneer, a tall, slender man with jet-black hair, called out the very number I'd been trying so hard to forget.

"G-13. Would G-13 please stand up," he bellowed into his microphone. Jessica looked at me in a confused manner when I didn't move.

"Isn't that your number Bella?"

I did my best to look like I'd unintentionally forgotten, frowning at first, then slowly rising to my feet, all the while staring at the back wall of the gym. I had managed to convince myself that if I didn't look at anyone, they wouldn't bid on me.

He went over to the folding table to find my basket and place it on the podium, as he had done with the last twelve baskets. I could feel my ears begin to turn red. The embarrassing part hadn't even started yet and I was already falling apart.

The auctioneer cleared his throat with an unnecessary volume and began.

"Let's start this one off at three dollars. Do I have three dollars?"

"Three dollars!" I heard Mike shout from six rows back.

"Five dollars!" Tyler countered from somewhere to my left.

"Ten!" Eric glared at Tyler.

"TWENTY!" Mike bellowed. My right eye began to twitch.

"FIFTY!"

"EIGHTY!"

I closed my eyes. This really couldn't be happening. It was just a bad dream. I'd wake up soon. Yes, I'd wake up and I'd be at home in my warm bed. When I woke up, I'd be sure to have a great laugh at my silly imagination for coming up with something this absurd.

"ONE HUNDRED!"

Okay, you can wake up anytime now Bella. I began to move my left arm to attempt pinching myself awake when –

"Six hundred."

My eyes flew open as a voice I knew all too well echoed from every corner of the gym.


	4. The Bid

**Author Note:**

Dear loyal readers,

Let me extend to you my deepest and truest apologies. I realize this fic has not been updated in…um…6 months…yeah. I'm so sorry. College life got seriously in the way of most of my fandoming, which included finishing up this story. I want to thank each and every one of you for all your wonderful reviews so far and hopefully I can continue to amuse you with this little tale. I feel like such a horrible author right now, but trust me when I say the delay was unavoidable. Anywho, with the discovery of my ever-so-boring and slightly pointless U.S. History class (I've taken it both in middle school and high school…when does the need to learn about this nation end?) and my A&S Orientation class (which quite frankly is the biggest waste of an 8 am class EVER) I am now able to actually do something useful with my time…like update this story. That was such a run-on sentence. So here you go… the long awaited and hopefully not disappointing Chapter 4 (which is kind of short, but I wanted to go ahead and tie up loose ends before I went on). To all of you who stuck around, have a cookie on me. ;)

Most gratefully yours,

Lynne

PS: I actually named my chapters! Party time!

--

"Six hundred."

My eyes flew open as a voice I knew all too well echoed from every corner of the gym.

My body froze. The gym seemed to go completely quiet, but I blamed that on the fact that my brain was screaming bloody murder.

Every seat seemed to turn at that moment to face the voice that had called out such a crazy bid. Mike and Eric looked both infuriated and incredulous as they stared at none other than my mysterious phantom of a lab partner. Edward ever so calmly slid his way down the aisles to pay the auctioneer's assistant, who, like everyone else, seemed to be stunned, if not a little suspicious. The weight of the thick silence was obviously eating at my nerves, because I could feel my tangled fingers twitching involuntarily in my fists. I was finding it hard to keep my eyes under control, considering they seemed to want to glance everywhere I once. I must have looked deranged with my eyes looking from the crowd, to Edward, up at the auctioneer, then back to Edward. My brain was having a hard time with comprehension. 

When he had finished paying for the basket he took a small glance in my direction and steadily headed back to the rear of the gym.

After what seemed like hours of agonizing stares and whispers in my direction, the auctioneer found his composure, thanking Edward for his generous donation and announcing the continuation of the auction.

I stumbled back to my seat next to Jessica and tried to remember where my lungs resided. In no way had that just happened. _Six hundred dollars_? Was he crazy? Strike that, it was me who was the crazy one. Crazy for not ditching like I should have. _Stupid, stupid, STUPID Bella!_

The rest of the auction passed in a blur, and before I knew it everyone was filing out to enjoy their soggy picnics on the school grounds. I noticed Mike leaving with Jessica in tow, and Eric had walked out escorting a rather bubbly looking red head who seemed more than elated to have been bid on.

I was one of the last to leave the gym considering I was still dazed and utterly in disbelief.

As soon as I found myself in the faded sunlight I realized Edward was standing there, waiting for me. Grasped in his left hand I noticed my pretty yet pathetic excuse for a basket.

I stared blankly for a minute, taking a few moments to glance down at my shoes before he frowned slightly and motioned towards an empty bench "Shall we?"

I dumbly nodded in consent, and followed his lead. This was so ridiculous on about ten different levels. Why couldn't I say anything? Why did my legs feel like they belonged in one of those awful Jell-O commercials? And most importantly, why was he staring at me with such an amused expression.

"So," he started as we sat at opposite ends of the bench. "Hungry?"


End file.
